Back Before The Smoke Cleared
by The What-If Writer
Summary: ONE-SHOT. One night in the old saloon, Outlaw Scuzz finds himself looking back on past events, about his family, his betrayal and his life of crime.


_A little insight to Scuzz's past (and my take on it)_

* * *

Back Before The Smoke Cleared

The lights were dim that dark and must night. The wind had died down and the once scolding sands of the desert turned to a chill, a cold that would give the snowy mountains on the faraway planet of Earth a run for its money. Despite the darkness and tranquility silence that drifted through the night air above, the surface of Fort Kerium was anything but dark. The lights, dim as they were, were on, and the music was playing and the chatter was trailing on, cluttered into the familiar sound of coins against the tabletops, glasses against the bar and the soft music in the corner of the saloon.

The yellow-ish light flickered drunkenly above the many occupant's of the saloon's heads, be them big or small. As the chatter, laughing and music prattled on, a group of particular-looking fellows (yet not too particular looking to attract too much attention, or that the other folk around them had simply gotten used to them) were sat around a chipped circular table in one of the saloon's corner. The bunch matched the shadowy flickers on the walls; Keeping to themselves, and the other people seemed to want just that to happen.

For these were outlaws.

Handlebar disliked outlaws- well, that was an understatement, really. He despised those varmints with every fiber of his tall and well-built being, but if you wanted to get anywhere on this planet you needed to be able to deal with them.

The fact was that, contrary to what a certain magically enhanced marshal would want, Outlaws were everywhere, some less dangerous than others. These folk usually hovered around places like saloons, one of which was owned by Handlebar. Though many of them deserved to be thrown into the slammer, key turned hats down quick-time, it wasn't that simple. Sometimes you just had to let them roam until they actually were seen doing something. Unless you wanted to try and round all of them up without causing a major fuss; gathering all of this rowdy bunch up from all over town would be like swatting sand-flies in the air...with a torn fly swatter.

So, the outlaws gathered in the saloons, all in their merry vileness but otherwise quiet legal activities...for now, anyway.

In the corner of the saloon, were the shadiest bunch of outlaws you certainly wouldn't want to hang with, two of the most peculiarly placed individuals shared a long, raucous cackle. Handlebar did his best not to look at those varmints. Personally he just wanted them to get their drinks and leave. No such luck...

"Ha-ha, Dat d'ere hand was a rea-al ggn-at."

"Aw, c'mon, Thunderstick-" A hacking cough cut the speaker off before he regained control, "Wasn't bad- wheez- as mine!"

Thunderstick propped a sharp, metallic elbow on the tabletop and rested his large jaw in the pal of his gloved hand, watching almost sulkily as the next hand was dealt. Talk about a slow night...he'd lost on that game worse than Tex did to Bravestarr. Something he wouldn't dare say out loud, of course. Not ever to Scuzz. Scuzz was leaning back in his chair, large feet up and cigar in a plump hand. He tossed a small coin in the other idly, looking mighty pleased with himself. He hadn't won the card game, but he'd done much better than his metal friend.

The prairie person gave another cough and smirked to himself at Thunderstick's sour look. Being with a robot for so long could get you a notion of their emotion (no stupid sissy rhyme intended there) and this expression stank of sore loser. The cards began sliding out as one of the other players felt the next hand.

Scuzz took the moment of waiting to glance around the saloon. Per usual, the place was rather rowdy though not too rowdy (Handlebar would kick them all out on their behinds) and folk seemed to be having a good time, himself included.

He smiled to himself as he drew on his cigar, noticing that he would need a replacement soon as this one was growing short. Yup, the music was playing, the cards were out...it was a good night.

"Nothin' like-cough- an ole' card game at the saloon." He remarked, more to move Thunderstick out of his sore-loser-am-I state. The robot blinked for a moment (or at least his eyes flickered in his equivalent of a blink) and replied,

"Y-yup. No job tonight. We c-can take it easy-like."

"Yup!"

Scuzz tossed his used cigar away and delved a hand into his large pocket to fish out another. Thunderstick noticed this with a frown in his eyes.

"Ya should r-really stop dat smokin', Sc-Scuzz."

"Ah, go shove yourself an oil barrel."

Thunderstick was about to retort as the prairie man lit his new cigar when he noticed a smallish, squat figure wandering nearby. Unlike the rest of the saloon's occupants who had shuffled away from the outlaws, this small fry (he was notably smaller than Scuzz)didn't seem bothered by them and he was notably different from the crowd.

He hadn't seen this guy around before. Thunderstick noticed that the prairie person was the only other member of his race besides Scuzz that had dared venture into a saloon at night when all the big-bad monsters were out.

The prairie person was young; Around twenty at the least, attired in basic prairie gear only in different colours; In contrast to the usually orange tunic and red hat, this kid wore a dark brown tunic and a pilot hat of the same colour, one that obscured his hair and his its colour from view. He was scrawny in terms of the prairie and had an odd, scowling look on his face that most of the species lacked under normal circumstances.

Thunderstick nudged his coin-tossing friend to alert him and the others of this new arrival (or, in their eyes, the new person to pick on.)

"Say d-dere, Scuzz!" He announced loudly as said outlaw straightened his knocked-aside hat with a scowl, "Lookit the little big-shot! Think' he can stroll in-into a bar were the b-big boys are."

The other no-good men around the table grinned and caught onto this little game. The prairie lad scowled but didn't look over, making it clear that he'd heard but was trying to make it seem like he hadn't. The man who had been dealing the cards snickered.

"Ain't you a bit young ta be out dis late, sonny-jim?"

There was a collective laugh. Scuzz smirked nastily at the younger, who finally returned their looks with a frown. Poor little scrap. Had he been any better of a person who would've been sorry for this not-yet adult.

Yeah right.

He drew on his cigar and began flipped his coin again, taking his turn to poke fun at the young adult who had hoisted himself onto a bar-stool just a few steps away. Handlebar was approaching, something they ignored.

"Cat got yer-cough-tongue, boy?" He asked, giving a wheezing sort of snigger that Thunderstick joined into as the boy's scowl deepened.

Handlebar arrived and gave a distasteful glance to the ruffians before turning to the young man.

"Sweetwater, son?"

"Yeah. Thanks." The short, quick voice was gone as soon as it came. Handlebar took the hint of no intended conversation and poured him a small glass. The ruffians resumed their little game as soon as the bartender had moved away.

"D'aww, l-lookit at the kid with his first d-drink o' sweetwater."

"Getta Camera, someone!"

"Ha-ha..."

The thick hand clasping said drink tightened. Scuzz's smirk widened.

The boy took a hasty, quick drink- something he shouldn't have done. Maybe he had been so tensed that he'd swallowed early, for he splutter a little afterward. The outlaws laughed gruffly in response as the youngster coughed.

Scuzz puffed out a small cloud of cigar as he flipped his coin, "What's wrong, sonny?" He coughed again before continuing, "Drink too strong?"

The younger grumbled something, shooting a scowl his way. Scuzz sat back with a smug air.

"Ya gotta be tougher than that 'round here, sonny boy."

"Yeah." Thunderstick added slyly, "Bet ya couldn't even play a game o' cards right."

Bait thrown.

Scuzz's grin widened as he realized what Thunderstick was up to. He wondered if the younger prairie person would take it.

"Yup. Your too chicken." Another one of their group remarked. The kid gave them all a cynical and rather deadpan look.

"Yeah." His voice, now louder and directed at them, "Guess I could play a game justa shove it in y'alls mugs."

"Pull up a chair, then, Sonny." Scuzz answered. If this kid played as bad as he drank, he was a goner in this neighborhood. The young man hopped of his stool with odd agility and began strolling over when Handlebar called:

"Hey, there, son." His tone was low and serious as he glanced between the young man and the outlaws, "That ain't folk you wanna be talkin' to."

"Don't worry, 'Tender." The boy replied. For a prairie, he spoke excellent English, better than any other member of his species, "I know what I'm doing."

Thunderstick and Scuzz shared a smug, scheming look. This kid was a goner, all right.

Even so, the kid dragged a stool over and hopped up beside Scuzz, the elder giving him a less-than impressed look before they scooped up their hands.

Silence followed as it did in all card games. He heard Thunderstcik grumble quietly and had to force down a grin. Poor tin can must've gotten another bad hand...

"So, kiddo." Of of the other outlaws remarked as he shifted his cards around, "Your not from here are ya?"

"Nope. Just dropped in fer a moment." The smaller prairie kept his eyes on his cards, head bent and lips slightly pursed. Scuzz drew of his cigar and blew a small smoke ring into the air. The kid gave a small cough in response, moving one hand to cover his mouth in the process. Scuzz didn't manged to get a glance of his cards before his recovered, though.

As the game continued, Scuzz noticed something weird about the younger prairie person, and he couldn't quiet put his finger on it. Then, he realized, that this kid reminded him of someone.

A small memory stirred at the back of Scuzz's mind and he chased it away with a grimace. Nope. No way was he going down memory lane today, no sir.

But...he found himself thinking a little more. Aw, Nuts...

The kid was probably familiar because he looked so young and well, rather unhappy. Other than that he held no resemblance to the folk he was thinking of.

Guess memory lane was dragging him along after all.

It had been a long time ago when things had gotten too tense around home and things turned to the more ruffian side of live.

Scuzz hadn't ever been like his family or any of the other prairie people for that matter. He was a black sheep, a stranger and an oddball. They hadn't liked him for it, and even his family had been weary of himself and his immediate relatives, like one of his parents in particular who bore the same black hair as he did. Fuzz especially.

He smirked when he remembered poor, innocent little Fuzzie. That day when they'd first met? Talk about a priceless little lost puppy look. It was hard to believe their parents were siblings. Yeah, Fuzz had never been the worst family member, though.

Hang on, did he just SAY that?

Nope, he meant that Fuzz hadn't stared at him or shuffled away as much as the others. Little pest still did it, but he was more clingy to him. Being the family member closest to him in age bust still younger, Fuzz had followed his around now and again. Despite his teasing.

Scuzz personally thought it was because he was scared of that lot who had been picking on him. Well, he dealt with them no problem. It wasn't like he cared about Fuzz. It was because the fuzzy little munchkin was his target to pick on, not theirs.

Anyway...

Despite his differences Scuzz grew up there whether he liked it or not. He began slipping away when he got older, though. His family noticed, but didn't do much to stop him.

But someone did.

There was a rather unruly and tough prairie girl that differed from her peers, but not as much as him. She bore the same looks of they did; Fair, red-haired and dressed in orange. But he'd once seen her knock someone into an underground river after a fight. Turned out it was her annoying brother, but still. He'd been shock and, though he'd never admit it, slightly impressed.

She usually had a pout, stiff look about her and most thought her a wild and harsh character. In other words he liked to speak to her more than anyone else.

Tana had been an odd character like him, but she disproved of his going-off-to-who-knows were schemes and his then small smoking habit. Despise her misgivings she'd been the only one he dare call a friend.

"Yous talkin' to bad folk, Scuzz. Ya shouldn't be doing so!"

Yaddy-yadda. She sure could talk, though.

Maybe that's what was familiar in this young prairie adult beside him. That I'm-So-Tough-I-Can-Kick-You-Harder-Than-Stampede sort of look.

Well, in their later years and to so many folk's surprise and their disbelief (That Scuzz shared equally) The two of them had kind of, maybe had, sort of started what folk called a 'relationship'

They'd been young, you see (and excuse Scuzz made often though it sounded lame) and they'd ben happy for a while. Before he got even more...well, himself.

He'd hardened and lessened in kindness as he delved into the more darker things like gambling, smoking, a dirty dealing here and there. Things got difficult between him and Tana. Especially...

"Oy, Scuzz, where y-your brain at?!" A cuff around the back of his head brought him back to reality. Oh yeah, they were playing a game and Thunderstick had noticed his thoughtful and dozy look. He shot the robot a sour look and rubbed the back of his head with his free hand. He snarled quietly at the younger Prairie Person, who had snickered a little at him.

Despite his robot chum's interrupting, he found himself back in his thoughts again. Stupid thoughts, making him sick...

Yeah, they'd split up after the baby turned up.

Scuzz had almost fainted when she broke the news to them after one of their early arguments that he was going to be a father. By that time he'd already been smoking a gambling, something she didn't approve of at all.

He must have sounded like a total coward back them when...he said he wanted no part in it.

He'd told himself that the kid would be better off, and even though he wasn't raising him with her he would see him around. But then things got worse.

Scuzz and his race and family grew more sour towards each other, and not a while after the baby was born did Scuzz finally leave. It had been one of the heaviest moments of his life when he'd walked away from Tana, who had watched him go with a disdainful and less-than surprised glower. To think he thought she knew what it felt like to be a little different- not that it bothered him. She didn't understand that he was a bad person, and that was all there was to it. His race had always been against him, right from the beginning.

Her glare hadn't been as bad as glancing back once and seeing a small tuff of black hair poking out from the bundle she held in her arms. He couldn't help but feel that black hair was a forbidding sort of curse.

Anyway, he'd left. That's when he met Tex.

Things went quickly after that. In his own little spiteful act of revenge, Scuzz helped Tex with with finding a little more 'forced help' which the colony he once called his own filled in quickly. It had been mighty pleasing to see Fuzz's look of disbelief and his cousin working like a mere slave as he watched from afar.

He hadn't really though of what Tana was going, he'd been so wrapped up in his little get-back scheme. He'd caught sight of her at the sidelines among those who were excused from working, mostly because they were unable.

In her case, she was standing away because of the baby she held in her arms. Scuzz remembered the smirk on his face fade instantly as her gaze met his face her expression became...almost fearful. She clutched the tiny bundle closer as Scuzz approached, rubbing the back of his neck. Then, Tana had scowled.

"Don't you come near, Scuzz." She warned with only a slight waver in her tone. The baby in her arms, his wild black hair poking out from the side of his blanket-bundle, gave a small and quiet wail. Scuzz, involuntary, reached out and ruffled his unruly hair before Tana's raised hand could slap him away. Oddly, she let this small unseen act of affection go noticed, but kept her scowl in place.

The baby boy quieted and his eyes remained shut. Scuzz had shot her a triumphant look.

Then, his smirk faded again and he avoided her gaze as he turned around. "Er..."

He fought for words as he began walking off. "Ya...take good care of yourself. And 'im."

There had been no response.

"Scuzz, I t-tink you've h-had too many drinks..."

The prairie person snapped out of his thoughts upon hearing Thunderstick call from the land of the present. Despite everyone else at the card table not noticing, he'd drifted off again. Thunderstick glared at him.

"You outa p-pour some water over your head, Sc-Scuzz!"

Scuzz did childishly stuck his tongue out when the robot turned away and returned to his thoughts, hopefully for only a little while longer.

Scuzz wasn't a sissy. He wasn't a father, either, yet...that small squirt with that shared his once black locks had made him smile a little when he thought of him.

He wasn't a baby now, after all. By this time, heck what was it, twenty years? By this time he would be grown.

Scuzz felt a pang of something. And only after a while did he realize that is was regret.

That was stupid. He didn't have any regrets. Little tyke would be better off without him, anyhow...

His thoughts were interrupted a third and final time. And this time it wasn't the stuttering bot.

The young prairie had slammed his cards down with the most smug look Scuzz had ever seen.

The outlaws gaped at said cards before moving their gazes up slowly to meet the sharp eyes of the young man.

"Read. Em. An. Weep."

That said, the kid grabbed the coins off the table and hopped from the tall stool, gasting back a smirk as he strode off. He looked over his shoulder and met Scuzz' gaze. The elder scowled at him, drawing on his cigar.

"Ya lil' varment."

Cough.

"B-Brat." Thunderstick agreed bluntly from above. Then the young adult was gone, leaving some very flabbergasted outlaws and a chuckling bartender in his wake.

Scuzz shook his head. He hadn't known why the young prairie had brought on this bought of memory, (Maybe the drink had something to do with it...) but he had. At least memory lane had been passed now. Past is Past. Can't do nothin' about it, uh-uh.

Outlaw Scuzz shook his head and turned back to the table, intending on gambling and drinking the night away, and forgetting all of that mushy stuff.

Outside, the young prairie adult wandered down the road, a small frown on his face as he went. His gaze set head, he did not notice the rock in his way.

His food slammed against the stone and he tripped, landing on his stomach with a small 'oof'. Lucky for him no-one was in the street when it happened. He was covered in dust , and his hat had fallen from his head.

He grumbled.

"Stupid hat."

Standing up and suiting himself off, the prairie person ran a thick hand over his wild black hair. He then bent down and scooped his hat up, placing it back on his head without bothering to fit his hair. This resulting in it sticking out from all angles as he strode out of town to where his vehicle and friends would meet him later.

Again, no one saw the black-haired youth as he went, except for Deputy Fuzz. Fuzz, who from his position outside the marshal's office, couldn't help but notice how oddly familiar the young man had looked before he left.


End file.
